


Lover of the Light

by MayQueen517



Category: Marvel Avengers Movies RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-14
Updated: 2013-01-14
Packaged: 2017-11-25 10:50:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/638111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MayQueen517/pseuds/MayQueen517
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His shirt is itching and he's ready to duck out of the gallery when he sees the sculpture that's taking up most of the room.</p><p>(or: that one where Sebastian is a sculptor and Chris is an art student.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lover of the Light

**Author's Note:**

  * For [VerboseWordsmith](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VerboseWordsmith/gifts).



> This is ridiculous, but I love it. Sebastian is a sculptor while Chris is an art student because I love any and all college aus.

Chris isn't sure why he's here. Well, he knows why, actually. It's hard to get extra credit in class, and if going to some gallery showing is the way to go about it, then that's what he's going to do. He's walking around, hoping to spend just enough time there to get the credit and then go home to sleep.

It's not his fault that school is exhausting. He's got the afternoon shift at the bookstore and all he can think about is his bed. The lights are bright and hot as he walks around. His shirt is itching and he's ready to duck out of the gallery when he sees the sculpture that's taking up most of the room.

Sweeping lines of copper held by rough patches of something that looks like it belongs on a scrap heap rather than in a sculpture. As he stares at it, he begins to see the shape it's taken. The waves are wrapped around and around one thing in the middle. His fingers itch for something, anything, to capture the way it looks. The lights shine off of what looks like a pearl from one angle and something totally different from another.

"You like it?" 

Chris jumps momentarily, turning to look at the man with a seriously ridiculous scarf wound around his neck (and Chris knows ridiculous, okay?) and a lazy smile. He's got a careless five o'clock shadow and Chris feels a warm rush of want slide through him like mud down a hill.

"I. Uh. Yeah. I mean, I don't get it, but I like it," he says, wincing as the guy laughs.

"It's not about getting it," he says, shifting his glass of wine to one hand, offering his hand to Chris, "I'm Sebastian."

"Chris," he says, shaking Sebastian's hand carefully. He's stunned into...something as Sebastian turns to say something to someone before he turns back to Chris.

"Chris," Sebastian says, seemingly testing it out as he smiles more, "I'm fucking starving, wanna go grab something with me?" he asks, and Chris finds himself nodding numbly.

They go to the local diner that caters to students’ budgets and needs and Sebastian orders a truly massive stack of pancakes while Chris orders a burger that's equally massive. They sit in silence for a moment before Chris clears his throat, fingers itching for a pencil or something to capture the lazy way Sebastian seems to do everything. 

"So what is it about?" Chris says suddenly, arranging and rearranging his silverware on the napkin. 

"What's what about?" Sebastian says, looking over at him as Chris feels his cheeks flush and he shrugs, tilting his head carefully.

"The sculpture. You said it's not about getting it," Chris says, feeling suddenly stupid and awkward.

"When you look at something by your favorite artist, are you thinking about why they did it? If they were happy or sad, or if the art represents something?"

"I...no," Chris admits as Sebastian nods, taking a sip of his coffee, leaning forward with his elbows on the table. He cradles the cup there, easily smiling.

"Art means something because of what it means to the person looking at it, not the person who creates it. It's why I don't believe the bullshit when people start talking about intent. Art isn't about intent, it's about feeling. How'd it make you feel?"

Chris stays quiet for a long moment, thinking about the sweeping copper lines and the sculpture that made him stop and stare, "Conflicted," he says finally, drawing a laugh out of Sebastian.

"That's okay. It's about feeling, not...intent. And don't let anyone tell you different," Sebastian says, jabbing his finger against the table as Chris smiles at him.

"Yeah, alright," Chris murmurs, taking a sip of his water. Sebastian grins suddenly, sharp and bright as he drains his coffee.

"Wanna see my workspace?" he says, easy and comfortable as Chris feels heat spread along his neck. Chris nods though, swallowing hard.

"Uh, yeah. That'd be...that'd be nice," Chris manages as Sebastian throws a couple of bills onto the table, leading Chris out of the diner.

 

Sebastian's lips are chapped and rough as he kisses Chris against the door of his workroom. He tastes like coffee, syrup, and something else that has Chris grinding up against Sebastian, gasping. The dim lighting of the workroom makes every move feel dream-like and hazy as Sebastian's stubble rasps along Chris' jaw.

One of Sebastian's calloused, broad hands tilts Chris' head, giving him better access to the pulse point of Chris' neck. His thumb slides over the angle of Chris' jaw, grazing his earlobe.

"Here okay?" Sebastian asks him, voice rough. Chris groans, surging forward to kiss him hard, enjoying the taste and feel of Sebastian's hips rocking against his. Sebastian pulls back, hissing as Chris drags his nails over Sebastian's back. His hips shudder and Chris finds himself grinning widely. 

"Fine, great. Perfect," Chris says, distracted by trailing his nails over the nape of Sebastian's neck, listening to his short, sharp curse followed by a laugh.

"You're gonna have to stop that," Sebastian says, going from nipping to outright biting along Chris' neck. Every bite is a sharp, pointed spike into his gut, making his knees actually feel weak. 

"Oh yeah?" Chris says breathlessly, arching into Sebastian. Sebastian makes a noise between a groan and a growl as he shoves his hand between them. Chris groans loudly as Sebastian works his hand into Chris' slacks, gripping him firmly. Chris can feel his eyes rolling back in his head as Sebastian strokes him hard and fast. 

They kiss, hard and bruising in a way that makes Chris feel like he's underwater and he can't breathe. He tangles his hands in Sebastian's hair, pulling on it as Sebastian hisses and squeezes his hand. 

Groaning, Chris tilts his head back, gasping hard as Sebastian graze his teeth along Chris' earlobe. Everything is colliding at once, it seems. The smells and sounds and feelings; heat is pooling in every limb of his body it seems. He comes with a short yell, pushing against Sebastian and his hands are clutched in Sebastian's hair. He untangles them slowly, catching Sebastian's smirk. 

He shivers as Sebastian pulls his hand out of Chris' slacks, his breathing still rough as he grins.

"C'mere," Chris says, breathless as he kisses Sebastian. Chris doesn't waste time; feels like he can't waste time as he kisses Sebastian harder. It doesn't take long, letting Sebastian rut against his thigh as they kissed with increasing sloppiness. He bites at Sebastian's bottom lip just as he drags his nails across the line of Sebastian's back. 

Chris feels him still, shuddering hard as Sebastian gasps out half of Chris' name as he comes. 

They stay like that for a moment, catching their breath and Chris leaves his hand flat against the skin of Sebastian's back, humming thoughtfully. 

"So. This is your workspace. It's nice," he says, grinning broadly as Sebastian bursts out laughing. He rubs his face against Chris' neck for a moment, picking it up to grin at him.

"The bedroom's even nicer," he says, as Chris snorts and laughs.

"I bet," he says, untangling them as he lets Sebastian lead him off to another room by fingers tangled in his. They're a mess, but it leaves Chris feeling strangely clear-headed after it all.


End file.
